


Fairytale Comes True

by coloursofautumn



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Find me a relationship like Dmitry and anya, Fluff, I just love anastasia, I wrote this years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 03:53:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursofautumn/pseuds/coloursofautumn
Summary: This is just a collection of drabbles about Anya and Dmitry. They're all written around 'In a Crowd of Thousands'. Most of the words and the characters aren't mine. I just love them a lot. I also dont know the exact time frames from the musical, so some were kinda guesses.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a sunny day in the middle of St Petersburg. The dullness of the early morning had broken into glorious sunshine. A large crowd gathered to see the Romanov parade.  
Dmitry Sudayev and his father were standing at the very back. with Dmitry on his father's shoulders.  
"Can you see anything up there, Dima?"  
"No, not yet Papa. But there are a lot of people. Can we get any closer?" Dima peered down into his father's brown eyes.  
His father laughed, "Only if you want to get crushed, my boy. You're 10 years old Dima - and thinner than you should be. You stay on my shoulders and you'll be able to see."  
Dima's bottom lip stuck out in protest. He was hot, hungry and bored. Why shouldn't he be able to go to the front and see what the fuss was all about?  
"Papa, will you put me down for a minute? I don't feel very well."  
He even made his voice sound thin and tired, the making of a true conman. Immediately, he was placed back on the tiled square and set off for the front of the crowd. "Dima!" He heard his father shout, but little Dmitry Sudayev - thin and hungry as he was- kept running.

Just then, a great roar came from the crowd on the road. He caught sight of the carriage carrying the daughters of the Tsar. With the sun in his eyes, he sprinted- pushing and shoving through the calcavade of people. Dmitry managed to catch the eye of the youngest daughter, Anastasia Romanov. Her piercing gaze would forever be etched in his memory. She was sat straight up, happily staring into the distance until she saw him. He called out her name as loud as he could, projecting his voice far across the square, and forced his way trhough the gap between the guards. He arrived as the carriage slowed down, so that the crowd could appreciate the daughters' beauty. Dmitry reached out and held onto Anastasia's pale, cold hand.  
She gasped. Then a tentative smile spread across her face, lighting it up. Her sisters gaped and tried to tug her arm away, but Dmitry's grip was firm, and so was Anastasia's. When Dmitry realised that he was holding the hand of the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov, he bowed before letting her go. Anastasia craned her neck as the carriage moved away, trying to get a last look of this boy who broke the rules just to see her. He stood there for a while as the crowds dispersed with his hand slightly outstretched. He heard his father calling his name and went off in search of him, remembering the desperate grip of the Grand Duchess- almost wishing for him to invite her into a simpler life. Dima made a pact there and then that he would do just that, and find her again.

  
~1927~

  
He could hear her screams echoing across the hallway. His heart ached for her, she didn't know anything. He threw off his covers and rushed to her, struggling to open the door with his shaking hands.  
"Anya?"  
"The voices. They keep coming back."  
She sounded so shrill, so tired.  
"That's all they are, just voices."  
She looked at him, wishing that she could believe what he said.  
"You're having a nightmare." Dmitry added. He knew that she knew it was a nightmare, but he'd say anything to stop her shoulders heaving and her blue eyes widening in fear. Dmitry led her back to sit on the edge of the bed, shocked at how cold her skin was.  
"Stay with me, Dmitry," she whispered. "I'm frightened."  
He'd been wanting to hear these words for so long, though he'd never admit it. He put an arm round her shoulders, hoping it seemed like an offering of peace.  
"Is that better?"  
She paused, opening her mouth to say something before shutting it again. Dmitry gestured for her to keep going.  
"Who do you think I am Dmitry?"  
The words fell off her tongue like she'd been wanting to say them for so long. Again, the aching feeling came back - she didn't know who she was.  
"If I were the Dowager Countess, I would want you to be her." Dmitry wouldn't dare to say her name, but both him and Anya knew who he was talking about. Anya looked almost touched, her eyebrows lifting and eyes brightening, "You would?"  
"I would want her to be a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman."  
Dmitry held back from saying everything he felt about her, she could be Anastasia after all.  
"Is that what you think I am?"  
"Yes."  
Anya laughed.  
"I was wondering if you were ever going to pay me a compliment."  
Dmitry smiled. Anya's face froze again, a shadow of a memory crossing her mind.  
"D-do you really think I might be her?"  
Dmitry took a deep breath, he had never told this to anyone. But she was looking so lost, so loveable.  
"I want to believe you were that girl I saw once, many years ago."  
He was back in that hot square, watching the carriage go past. The beautiful girl sat serene. But instead of Anastasia, it was Anya. Dmitry hadn't noticed how alike they looked until now. He was reaching up to her hand.  
"And then, he bowed."  
Dmitry snapped out of his dream. He had never told anyone that. Ever. How could she know unless, she was her. The Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov. She rushed to him with wide eyes, just as Dmitry rushed to her.  
Fireworks were going off in his chest as he leant towards her, wanting more than anything to kiss her. But then he realised who she was. She was no longer the street sweeper who walked all the way from Perm, nor was she the girl who jumped off a moving train. She was the Princess Anastasia and was going to be reunited with her Grandmother. He would never see her again.  
Dmitry forced his emotions down as he jerked back from her. He bowed once more.  
"Your Highness."

  
~ a few weeks later~

  
The pink sun was setting in the sky as Dmitry sat on his battered suitcase, facing the Pont Alexandre III. The bridge that connected Anya- The Grand Duchess Anastasia- and her family. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't mourn the loss for something that had never been. He couldn't wait to leave. To get out of this place that was filled to the brim with Anya. Dmitry wasn't sure where he would go, not back to Petersburg, it was too dangerous- though what did he care now. No more carriages or crowds of thousands, no more Anastasia.  
But he couldn't leave.  
She haunted his sleep and his waking moments. He would never be able to live without her.  
Dmitry snapped out of his daydream to the sound of heels clickling along the cobbled street. He knew who it was. He couldn't bear to look at her and think of what might have been.  
Instead, he stayed sat on his suitcase and said, rather vacantly,  
"If you ever see me from a carriage again, don't wave, don't smile. I don't want to be in love with someone I can't have, for the rest of my life."  
He had said too much, but what did it matter now? It wasn't like he was ever going to see her again. He got up, picked up his suitcase, and mock bowed to her - the third and last time. Still he did not look into her eyes.  
"Goodbye, your majesty."  
He walked away slowly, the last bit of hope fading like the evening sun.  
"I always dreamed my first kiss would be in Paris with a handsome Prince."  
Her voice was strong, he wished he could believe that she was talking about him.  
"I'm not your Prince, Anya."  
Only now did he allow himself to look at her. She was dressed up like a Princess, and a pang of hurt stabbed through his heart. But she had that glint of mischief in her eye, like Anya did once.  
"The Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov would beg to disagree."  
Anya had her mind set on something. She strode across to Dmitry, closing the gap between them, and pulled his suitaces from his hand. She stepped on top of it, causing a flutter of hope to rise in Dmitry once more.  
"Dima."  
She kissed him.  
Dmitry tensed up in shock, before relaxing into her arms. He kissed her back, pulling her close. The kiss was long overdue, they both knew that. She had chosen him, over everything. Over money, over grandeur, even over Paris.He lifted her off the suitcase, unable to draw his eyes away.  
They walked arm-in-arm over the bridge, and into a new life.


	2. A Carriage, A Boy, A Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short. But it's still from one of my fav scenes.

Her screams echoed through the hotel corridor.  
"I don't know who I am. Please. Leave me alone. Who are you?"  
Dmitry couldn't bear it any more. She sounded so broken, so helpless.  
  
"Anya?"  
He rushed into her room, she was curled up in a ball on her bed, tears wretching her body.  
"The voices, they keep coming back."  
Dmitry was afraid to touch her, but she didn't flinch at his hand on her nack. He reassured her and perched on the edge of her bed.  
"That's all they are, just voices. You're having a nightmare."  
Anya sat up.  
"Who do you think I am Dmitry?"  
Anya glanced up at him, nervoiusly fiddling with the end of her nightgown. Dmitry took a deep breath, he knew this question would tumble out. She had been looking lost for so long now, he wished he could comfort her properly.  
"I want to think you're the girl I saw once, many years ago."  
Putting her hand in his, Dmitry began his story. Anya laughed at his perfect retelling of the parade on the bright June morning. She could imagine that she was really there, in the crowd of thousands.  
Then a mist started clearing.  
  
A carriage, a boy, a bow.  
  
"With the sun in my eyes, you were gone."  
Anya cried out, her eyes wide. She was still holding Dmitry's hand, but was now standing next to the bed.   
"It was you. You were that boy. Your hands were cold," she said, clutching his large hand with both of hers. "I remember. I remember it all Dima."  
She rushed into his welcoming arms.  
  
Dmitry was in shock. This girl he had been in love with since he was 10, the Grand Duchess Anastasia, was clinging to him. He wanted to hold her and never let go.  
But she was a princess, and he was - well he was nothing.  
Avoiding her stare, Dmitry stood up and bowed.  
"Your Highness."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Please leave any improvements, so that I can improve!


End file.
